The Rose Garden
by Dearly-divided
Summary: Javert was no stranger to obsession, but this, this was something else entirely. In which Javert spies Cosette in the garden and develops an unhealthy obsession with her.


The Rose Garden

Javert was no stranger to obsession, but never had he been so utterly consumed by it… by thoughts of _her_.

He remembered the first time he'd glimpsed her. It was a fleeting thing; she'd been there with her father in the marketplace when a brawl had broken out. He'd stepped out of the shadows to break up the fight and help the pair caught in the centre. They'd been standing beside him one second, and gone the next.

It had only been later that he learned that her father was the one he hunted.

Jean Valjean. 24601.

At the time he'd hardly noticed her, she was merely an accessory to a guilty man. It was with the intention of apprehending Valjean that he had stalked the streets that night. At the time he'd chalked it up to luck that he'd stumbled across that grand house with the garden full of roses. Now he knew it for what it was, divine intervention. For in the dark of the night a lone figure crept through the flowers entirely unaware of the predatory eyes that stalked her movements.

She was glorious, heavenly even. She couldn't have been older than seventeen at the time, and so entirely innocent. Dressed only in a thin nightgown that clung rather deliciously to her developed body she strode barefoot through her garden. As he stared at the shimmering nightgown he found himself wondering what she looked like underneath.

Quietly he stepped up to the gate, making sure that he was still hidden in the shadows, eager to see more of her. She was beautiful; there was no denying it. Bathed in the soft moonlight she looked almost unearthly, with porcelain skin and golden curls that flowed loosely to her waist. Her cheeks were flushed from the crisp night air and her full lips were curved into a soft, content smile. The girl was slender, but as his eyes roamed her body he noticed that she most certainly had womanly curves. He couldn't help but stare at her, watching as her ample breast rose and fell with each breath. Unknowingly the beauty had enthralled him, he couldn't look away.

Somewhere deep inside of him, desire began to stir. He knew it was wrong of him to leer at such an angel, but he was only human, with human wants and needs.

He watched entranced as the girl reached out and plucked a rose from one of the bushes, bringing the flower up to her face so she could inhale its sweet perfume. Her blue eyes fluttered shut and her smile widened.

"COSETTE!" a voice he recognised as Valjean's voice shattered the serenity of the night.

Cosette's eyes flew open and in her surprise she dropped the rose, spinning around to face her father.

"Cosette, come inside! Quickly, now!"

No sooner had the words left the man's lips, Cosette obeyed. His eyes followed her as she walked the path back to the house, murmured a soft apology to Valjean and slipped into the safety of the house.

He should have been ecstatic that he'd finally found Valjean after years of searching.

But he wasn't.

He could easily have marched into the house then and there and arrested him, but he didn't. In truth, Jean Valjean was the furthest thing from his mind. He'd stood at the gate of the house long after Valjean and Cosette had gone inside, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to move. _Cosette_, he turned the name over in his mind and decided that he rather liked it.

He looked at the rose lying forgotten on the floor of the garden and grinned. Like a cat he stealthily climbed over the gate and retrieved it, tucking it away inside his coat. When he returned home that evening he put it on his bedside table as a reminder of the angel in the rose garden.

He'd returned the next night, hoping for another glimpse of her. While she had not ventured out into the garden, he'd been able to spy her through the window of her room. Again he'd stood in the shadows of the night and watched over her as she slept, standing vigil until the early hours of the morning.

Night after night he had returned to her, unable to keep away. At first he told himself it was merely… curiosity about his foe's newfound 'life' with the girl. Not that he ever paid attention to what Valjean was doing.

Now he knew better.

He had wanted her even then, wanted to possess her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. Javert had never been tempted like this before. He was no innocent, but he believed himself to be above such things. He found himself caring less and less as the days passed. It was a sin to want her so much, of that he was sure, he just lacked the capacity to care.

She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen and her father knew it too. Valjean hoarded her away in the house, away from men's prying eyes. If only he knew about the monster that stalked his angel every night.

He soon found that his nightly visits were not enough. He would spend hours upon a time outside the gate at night, forgoing food, sleep and duties as inspector. None of it mattered, not as far as Cosette was concerned.

He needed more. Flashes of her from her window, the occasional (and very treasured) glimpses of bare flesh when she changed into her bedclothes at night, it wasn't enough to satisfy him anymore. She haunted his thoughts during the day, and in the few hours he slept before dawn he dreamt of her.

He began to search for her as he made his rounds through the city during the daytime. She never went out alone, he noticed. Valjean was always hovering, holding her protectively at his side while she perused the marketplace. Valjean wasn't stupid, he could grant him that much at least. Still, that didn't mean that his constant presence didn't annoy the inspector.

Every Tuesday and Friday the pair would appear just after midday, like clockwork. They'd wander through the marketplace; buy some local produce and then head to the café on the corner for lunch. Every day exactly the same.

Javert found that he began to look forward to Tuesdays and Fridays with uncontainable glee. She looked even prettier in the sunshine, if that were possible. She laughed and smiled, all the while guiding her aging father by the arm. Valjean did not deserve such an angel, he thought darkly.

Then one day Cosette appeared in the marketplace, entirely alone.

Javert waited on the street corner, his cool grey eyes scanning through the crowd, but Valjean was nowhere in sight. For whatever reason, it seemed he had let his darling Cosette out into the world by herself. Javert thanked the stars for this.

Cosette didn't appear to be troubled about it either, he noted. She walked with a spring in her step and a smile on her angelic face, humming quietly to herself as she perused the various stalls. He was so utterly spellbound by her that he failed to see the trouble looming behind her.

Cosette had been standing in front of a jewellery stall marvelling at a necklace, when out of nowhere a rough looking man barged into her, ripping the basket from her hands and pushing her over. She fell with a cry and he ran off into the crowd, angrily shoving people aside in his attempt to get away.

White hot rage filled him. Instantly he took off after the thief, cursing the large throng of people that had congregated around the scene.

The thief was fast, but Javert was faster. The man had just turned the corner at the end of the street when Javert caught him by the back of his coat and threw him violently against the wall.

A sickening crack sounded.

Javert watched as the man stumbled away from the wall, blood dripping from his now broken nose.

"I'm sorry inspector," the man sobbed, backing away as Javert advanced upon him. "I'll… I'll give it all back, I p-promise." In his haste to get away from Javert the man tripped over Cosette's stolen basket and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Javert said nothing as he reached into his coat and pulled out his pistol and cocked it.

At the sight of the glinting metal the man's eyes widened and he threw his arms up in front of him, as if they would somehow protect him. It was too late. He'd attacked _her_ and for that he would die.

"Please- Please, my baby sister! She's starving, hasn't eaten in three days! P-please don't hurt m-me!"

Later he would tell his superiors that the man had attacked him, that in their struggle his gun had somehow gone off. An unfortunate accident, yes, but no great tragedy. One less criminal on the streets of Paris.

But as it was he levelled the pistol at the begging man's head and fired. Twice.

Kicking the body away from himself, Javert had knelt to the ground and began to collect Cosette's things back into her basket. Once he was satisfied that he'd retrieved everything he stood, and without a single glance at the body on the cobblestones, he turned and returned to the marketplace.

By the time he reached Cosette she was seated on a chair next to the stall, a small crowd of people gathered around her. A young, well dressed man was by her side, holding her hand. He was whispering something to her, but Javert was not close enough to hear the words. He clenched his fists in an effort not to lose control of his temper.

"Clear away, all of you. Now!" he growled as he approached his Cosette.

The young man straightened up and turned to protest, but at the look in the inspector's eyes he wisely fell silent. An urchin girl beside him quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him away; it wouldn't be wise for either of them to get caught in the inspector's business.

His attention turned back to Cosette, who was still trembling in her seat. His eyes zeroed in on her injuries, both hands were scrapped up and bleeding and there was a shallow cut on her cheek. Nothing too terrible, but Javert hated the sight nonetheless.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" he asked gently, kneeling down before her.

It was clear to everyone around that she was not, but Cosette nodded anyway, "Yes, thank you."

How he longed to reach out and caress her, to kiss those succulent pink lips, but now was not the time for that. His angel had been wounded, and he would not rest until he knew she was safe. From behind him he pulled her basket out and set it before her.

"Everything is there, I assure you," he said, and to his immense delight, she blessed him with a smile.

"Thank you again, inspector. I don't know what I would have done had you not been there. My papa would have been furious with me if I had returned with no money and no food for the week," she laughed, not noticing the strange glint in his eyes.

She went to pick up her basket, but as her injured flesh came into contact with the wood she flinched and let out a hiss. Javert frowned.

"Mademoiselle, come with me. Your hands need to be bandaged, I have supplies back at the station."

He stood up and picked Cosette's basket up in one hand, offering her the other. Cosette glanced warily at his hand and then looked up at his face.

"Inspector, you have done more than enough, really. I don't wish to impose on you any more than I fear I already have," she said, blushing.

Javert smiled kindly at her, "Mademoiselle, I must insist. It won't take long, I assure you. Afterwards I will escort you home myself. It's not safe for a lady such as yourself to be alone on these streets."

Cosette hesitated for another moment and then relented, taking Javert's offered arm. It was only with tremendous amount of effort that he was able to keep from smiling. His heart hammered against his ribs as he walked her though the busy streets of Paris. It felt right, having her on his arm.

The station was only a few minutes walk away, but to Javert those minutes felt like eternity.

"Were those two friends of yours?" he asked conversationally.

"No, I've never met them before. They saw the accident and came to help me," she replied. Javert nodded, but he let out a subtle sigh of relief. The thought of Cosette around another man was not one that he enjoyed.

Once they were inside he led straight up the stairs and into his office. He gently settled her down in the seat opposite his desk and then went to shut the door. He did not want anyone intruding on his time with Cosette.

"How are your hands? Do they sting?" he asked as he retrieved his box of medical supplies from under his desk.

Cosette inspected her palms. They were badly scraped, and while there was a little blood, it stung more than anything else. "A little," she admitted.

Javert sat down on the wooden desk and took her hands in his cleaning away the gravel and the dirt. She would flinch occasionally when he accidentally pressed too hard, but otherwise she remained silent, content to watch him work.

He tried to be as gentle as possible with her, but he knew he left a little to be desired. His hands were rough he couldn't help it. He wasn't used to handling such soft, delicate skin.

He finally got around to wrapping her hands in the bandages he wondered if she noticed how his fingers lingered on her skin. Did she feel the same heat every time they touched? The same spark?

He could have taken her right then and there, and he desperately wanted to. The door was shut and locked; no one would dare disturb them. He'd throw all his papers onto the floor, lift Cosette onto the desk and fuck her until they both came.

He imagined the way she would beg for him, breathless, her pert breasts pressing up against his chest as he clung to her. And he would kiss her, claim her lips, and the rest of her, as his. His Cosette…

While the thought was tempting, the more rational part of his mind that it was neither the time nor the place for that.

Cosette had been hurt today.

Once again his eyes flickered up to her face, and the shallow scratch on her cheek. How could he have let this happen? He was supposed to watch her, protect her! Part of him laid the blame with Valjean; after all, if he had been with Cosette in the marketplace the thief would have chosen someone else to target. Someone Javert wouldn't have cared about. The thief might have walked out of that encounter alive had that been the case

When he finished with her hands Javert cleared his throat, "All done. Now Mademoiselle, I believe I promised to escort you home?" He posed it like a question, but he would escort her home whether she wished him too or not. He needed to make sure she was returned home safely.

Thankfully, Cosette nodded.

Once again Javert stood and offered her his arm. This time she didn't hesitate in taking it. "Please inspector, call me Cosette," she said with a warm, if not tentative smile.

"Cosette," he echoed. Her name was like a prayer on his lips.

He'd let her give him directions to her house, as if he didn't know the route by heart. She talked pleasantly the entire trip, but if he were being entirely honest with himself, Javert only heard about half of it. He was too excited. Too enthralled with her presence.

In no time at all they reached Rue Plumet, and Javert was forced to let his angel go... for the present time being, anyway.

"I can't thank you enough, inspector," Cosette said when Javert reluctantly let her arm drop from his.

"As I said, it was nothing. Have a good afternoon, Cosette."

"You too, inspector…" she trailed off.

"Javert. Inspector Javert," he supplied helpfully.

"My thanks again, inspector Javert," Cosette murmured with a smile.

He bowed low, causing her to giggle, and then before he could do anything he might later regret, he left.

That night when Javert returned home his thoughts were all over the place. He'd talked to her, touched her, even. It was heavenly.

He made his way up to his bedroom, shedding his uniform as he went. His hand found its way down to his cock and began to stroke it. With eyes shut tight he imagined it was Cosette's hands working their magic on him. He grew hard at the thought of her, lying naked next to him as she pumped her soft hands up and down his shaft.

Groaning softly Javert picked up his speed and the fantasy changed. Instead of her fingers, Cosette took him in her mouth. She looked up at him with those devilishly innocent eyes; her pink succulent lips wrapped around his cock, and began to suck. He couldn't help but wind his long fingers through her golden tresses, guiding her. It's heavenly. _She's_ heavenly.

"Cosette," he groaned out, feeling his release build up inside of him. He worked his fingers faster and faster, lost in the pleasure of his fantasy until, with a loud string of unintelligible curses, he came.

Panting slightly, Javert opened his eyes to find himself alone in his bedroom.

It wasn't enough anymore; he'd known that for a while now. He needed her by his side. He would go mad without her. And so, after he cleaned himself off he lay back in his bed and plotted.

Would ever a day go by that he didn't want her so? Somehow he doubted it. He would have his angel soon enough.

Jean Valjean was afraid. Javert could see it in his eyes every time he and Cosette came into town. It was utterly delightful, and best of all Javert hadn't had to lift a finger to make him so.

No, it was Cosette who had done his dirty work. He'd noticed it the Tuesday following Cosette's mugging. Valjean was back at her side, but he was different somehow. While Cosette flitted happily through the busy marketplace, Valjean followed, shooting furtive glances at anyone who walked too close.

For a little while, Javert thought that he was merely worried about being mugged again, but then he noticed how Valjean would clam up every time an officer walked past. It seemed that his darling Cosette had informed her father exactly _which_ inspector had helped her that day.

Yes, Jean Valjean knew that he was close and yet, for some unknown reason, he hadn't run. Ultimately it worked in his favour. Once upon a time Valjean had promised to turn himself in, but he was far too comfortable with his life to do so now. He adored his daughter too much, and Javert fully intended to use that against him. He could kill two birds with one stone.

And so he let Valjean's fear fester. Over the next few weeks he allowed his presence to become a little more overt. A glimpse of a shadow here, a flash of a blue uniform over there. Nothing too obvious, he didn't want Valjean to run and hole up in some godforsaken corner of France. It would take months to track him down again, and Javert didn't think he could make it that long without his Cosette.

The stress of hiding began to take its toll. Valjean looked haggard when he came into town. He was thinner, paler even. Even from his watch across the street Javert could see the bags under his eyes. It was utterly delightful.

But eventually the games had to come to an end. As fun as it was toying with Valjean, he needed Cosette. The other night he'd almost lowered himself to fucking a prostitute on the street corner. She'd been almost pretty for a whore, with her curly blonde hair and a somewhat decent smile. Her face was all wrong, but he'd figured in dim light he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. He could pretend she was his Cosette. But when he'd had her backed up against a wall, his hands on his buckle he'd realised that it was wrong.

As if a vile, streetwalking whore could ever satisfy his needs.

He'd shoved her away in disgust and continued his walk home. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he would have her.

Javert had never known a day to pass so slowly in his entire lifetime, but after what seemed an eternity the sun finally set. He took one last glance in the mirror and straightened out his uniform. Satisfied he smiled and left his house, walking the familiar route to 55 Rue Plumet.

The night air was brisk, but Javert was in far too jovial a mood to let that bother him. He walked quickly and quietly, making the trip in half the time he usually did.

This time, instead of standing at his post outside their gate, Javert pushed the ancient thing open and strode inside, following the path through the garden to the front door. With a smile on his face, Javert knocked.

A moment later the door opened. Valjean looked at him. He looked at Valjean.

"Evening, Valjean. Long time no see," he said with a grin.

It wasn't technically true, but Valjean didn't know that.

"Javert," he whispered, his eyes wide with both surprise and dread.

"Mind if I come in? I'd just hate to have to do this in the street."

Valjean swallowed nervously, "Please Javert. Don't do this now… Give me a week, three days even. Let me settle my affairs and I'll come willingly. I have a daughter to look after."

Javert's smile slipped off his face. "Inside. Now," he growled.

When Valjean didn't move he roughly pushed past him and entered the house. Vaguely he registered Valjean walking in behind him, though he was more interested in studying the inside of the house.

It looked 'homey' with artwork on the walls and little doyleys on the table tops, nothing like the barren hideaway he'd imagined Valjean holing up in. Perhaps it was Cosette's influence. Briefly he wondered whether she would want to redecorate their house. Not that he would mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to deny her anything.

"Javert, I swear on my life I'll go with you back to Toulon, just give me some time, please!" he begged quietly, his eyes darting to the stairs every so often.

Javert smiled, a wild look in his eyes that sent a chill down Valjean's spine. "It won't be Toulon you'll be going to, it's the gallows. My orders came in this morning."

The blood drained from Valjean's face, but he didn't change his stance, "Three days, that's all I ask. I need to make sure Cosette will be looked after... I'm all she has."

_She has ME!_ He didn't say it, but he wanted to.

"Speaking of, where is your lovely daughter?"

Valjean's eyes flash with anger, "Leave her out of this, Javert! She's not your concern!"

"I'm not a monster, you know. I can be kind, lenient even, if the circumstances are right," he said with mock outrage.

"So you'll give me some time then?" he asked suspiciously.

Javert laughed, "No. This ends tonight. But, I might be _persuaded_ into taking you back to Toulon instead. The orders aren't set in stone, after all."

Valjean studied him, searching for any hint of deception. When he found none, he wearily asked, "What is it you want, Javert? Gold? Silver? The house? My fortune?"

Javert scoffed, "Nothing so material. No, I want Cosette."

If looks could kill, Javert would be six feet under.

"You want _what?_" he hissed.

"Cosette."

"You sick bastard! I'm not going to sell my own daughter!" Valjean spat through clenched teeth.

"Not even for your freedom?" Javert offered, his grey eyes glinting with glee.

Valjean, the perpetual saint, didn't even blink, "NO! You will not lay a hand on her-" He cut off at the sound of creaking steps. Cosette was coming downstairs.

"Papa, is everything okay? Who are you talking to?" Cosette's voice floated down the hallway, and a moment later she appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, hello inspector Javert," she smiled brightly, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"Cosette, go back to your room," Valjean ordered, his voice offering no room for argument.

Cosette stared up at her father in confusion but when he wouldn't meet her eyes she turned her gaze to Javert.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Cosette, back to your room NOW!" Valjean shouted, but Cosette didn't move.

"I'm here to arrest your father," Javert informed her tenderly.

"What? That's impossible! T-there must be some m-mistake, my father would never…" she trailed off when she noticed the expression on her precious father's face.

Shame. Torment. Guilt. Agony. It was delightful. Javert revelled in it.

"You're father's an ex convict, escaped from parole, my dear," he said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

He enjoyed her look of pain far less than Valjean's, but he continued nonetheless, "I have orders to arrest him, and tomorrow he will hang."

Cosette's beautiful blue eyes filled with tears, and she started to tremble with repressed sobs. "No, no please," she moaned, and the sound is agony to his ears.

He reminded himself that it necessary, she has to be desperate, but he still longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.

"It'll be all right Cosette, I promise," Valjean said, though Javert seriously doubted that anyone in the room actually believed him.

"You can't go," she cried. Then she suddenly whirled around to face him, "Please inspector, there must be something you can do."

Javert could barely conceal his grin, "Do you love your father, little one?" he asked soothingly.

Cosette looked at him as if he was mad, but she nodded as tears slipped down her face.

"Cosette, don't listen to him," Valjean warned, but Cosette didn't seem to hear him.

"Your father must pay for his crimes, there is nothing I can do to change that."

Nor would he want to, seeing Valjean behind bars for the rest of his life gave him no small amount of satisfaction.

"But, I might be able to persuade my superiors to change his sentence from death to imprisonment. It's not much, but at least he'd be alive," he murmured, unable to stop himself from swiping one of the tears that ran down her pale cheek. "However, such a thing is only done of behalf of one's family," he said.

Cosette looked up at him in confusion and asked in a sniffling voice, "What do you mean?"

"He means that in order to save my life, you would have to marry him so he could plead on the behalf of his 'father in law'," Valjean spat, glaring at Javert like he was the scum of the earth.

The silence was thick in the air.

"So, if I… if I marry you, you'll be able to save his life?" she asked, her wide, honest eyes fixated on Javert.

He smiled, "Yes."

But Cosette wasn't finished, "And I'll be able to visit him, yes?"

The very thought of an angel like Cosette in Toulon made him shudder. It was a filthy, desolate place filled with the lowest kind of criminals, her father soon to be among them. Toulon and its inmates would swallow Cosette up whole and spit her back out.

No, if he had anything to say about it Cosette would never set foot in that godforsaken hellhole. "Of course, though it's several days travel from here, my dear."

Cosette nodded, mulling his words over in her head. Had she been in a clearer mind she might have wondered why Javert was offering to help her father, or why it seemed almost too coincidental that he was there at all. But she wasn't in the right frame of mind. She was scared for her father and scared for herself. Javert was offering her a way out, and as strange as it was, how could she refuse? Her father had sacrificed much for her, how could she deny him the same?

She glanced at Valjean standing shamefaced in the corner. He looked broken, nothing like the man she'd grown up with. Absentmindedly she bit down on her lip and a strange look of determination crossed her face.

In that moment Javert knew he had won. Cosette would do anything within her power for that man, just as he'd thought she would.

"I'll do it. I'll marry you if you promise to save my papa," she said, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, trying, no doubt, to look brave. He would have believed it too, had he not noticed the way she still shook. She needn't be scared; he would rather die than hurt her.

With a deep breath to steady herself Cosette extended her hand to him, presumably to shake upon their deal. Instead Javert took her hand in his and laid a soft kiss on it, smiling all the while. Victory was ever so sweet.

"Cosette, my dear, don't do this. Please, I'm an old man, I'm not worth it," Valjean turned to face the inspector, a foul glare upon his face, "I'll go to the gallows." _Leave my daughter alone_, he didn't say the words, but Javert saw his meaning clear enough.

"It's not your decision, papa. It's mine," Cosette said, pulling her arm free from the inspector so she could tightly embrace her father. "I love you! I refuse to see you hang."

Cosette's mind was made; there was nothing Valjean could do to change it. He settled with hugging her back just as tightly. "You're too good to me, Cosette, I never did deserve you," he whispered, kissing the blonde curls on top of her head.

Jean Valjean was crying, Javert realised with surprise. In all his life he had never once seen the ox cry. Not under the lash of the cat o' nine, not when they dragged him kicking and screaming back after his escape attempts, not even when they'd released him. It made the moment that much sweeter.

Impatiently Javert pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. Half past eight, which meant that they needed to get going.

"Cosette," he said, sliding up beside her, "we need to go now," he told her. There was precious few hours left of the night, and he was determined not to waste a single second of them.

"Go? Go whe-" He watched as comprehension finally dawned on her, followed promptly by confusion. "But, at this hour? Surely we can wait until morning?"

Javert shook his head, "No, it has to be tonight. I know a priest who owes me a favour; he will officiate over the ceremony. Tonight we wed, and tomorrow I will plead for your father." Both of them ignored Valjean's scoff.

Cosette nodded and glanced down at her pale blue dress with a frown. Javert followed her gaze. It was a simple dress with lace sleeves, modestly cut, yet it still hinted at the feminine treasures hidden underneath. Appealing, most definitely, but probably what not she had imagined getting married it. Reading her thoughts he smiled, "You look lovely, my dear. Perfect, even."

He walked over to her and offered her his arm. After a moments hesitation she took it. "Come, the church is not far." He turned his gaze onto Valjean, " You can come alone too, it is customary for the father to give away the bride, is it not?"

Valjean's face twisted into a look of murderous rage, but he said nothing. Had Cosette not been in the room, Javert suspected Valjean would have had a few choice words for him.

The trio left shortly afterwards. True to his word the church Javert took them to was no more than a ten minute carriage ride away. Javert seated Cosette next to himself and placed a reassuring hand on her thigh. Valjean sat opposite them and for the entire journey said nothing, choosing instead to glare at Javert's hand as if he wished to rip it clean off.

The priest did not seem at all surprised to see Javert walk in with Cosette and Valjean, nor did he blink an eye when Javert announced he wanted to marry Cosette right then and there.

The ceremony itself was fairly simple. Valjean walked Cosette down the aisle staring stoically ahead. Just before the pair reached the end Valjean pulled Cosette to a stop.

"Cosette, my darling girl, I'm begging you, please don't do this. He's not a good man! Don't sell your soul for my sake," he whispered. "We could run, right now. Run and never look back. Please, my little lark." With a gentle hand he reached up and brushed away the single tear that fell from her eyes.

"I love you, papa," she said, slipping out of his grasp and moving to stand next to Javert. She had made her choice.

With a wary gaze on Valjean the priest began the service. He read from the bible, recited vows first for Javert and then for Cosette. They exchanged rings, Javert giving Cosette his signet ring, Cosette had to borrow her fathers to give to Javert. While Valjean scowled at this, Javert grinned, promising Cosette that they would exchange better rings soon.

Finally the priest announced that they were officially married and Javert pulled Cosette close and kissed her deeply. Cosette froze in his arms, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

He had her at last, she's his under the eyes of god and the laws of men and nothing could take away his happiness. Not even the less than subtle growl emanating from Valjean.

His hands wandered, he couldn't help it. If her lips were heaven (and they very much were), then her body was sin, and he wanted to drown in it. It was only when the priest awkwardly cleared his throat that Javert broke away from the kiss, a grinning like a madman.

They left the church shortly afterwards. Five minutes into their journey Cosette, who had been staring at the window, spoke up. "This isn't the way we came," she noted.

"No, we're not going back to Rue Plumet."

"Oh… Then where are we-" the words died on her lips as the carriage finally stopped at its destination. She'd been there only once before, but even if she hadn't the building was unmistakable - The Parisian Police station.

"I'm sorry Cosette, but it has to be done," he murmured, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

"I know," she whispered, and his heart ached at the pain in her voice.

If it had been anyone else he might be tempted to let them go. But it wasn't anyone else. It Jean Valjean and even if Javert were willing to forgive his past trespasses (he wasn't), he was the only thing left standing between Javert and what he wanted.

He gave them five minutes alone in the carriage to say their goodbyes.

Four minutes later Valjean stepped out of the carriage with his head held high. His face was stoic save for the tears that seemed to flow freely down his lined face. He barely even glanced at Javert as he walked towards his temporary prison.

He did not utter a word as Javert grabbed him from behind and marched him into the police station. He ignored the heckling of the other officers as they walked and said nothing when Javert tossed him unceremoniously into the smallest cell in the station and locked the door. It was only as he turned to leave that Valjean finally spoke up.

"Why?"

Javert sighed. He really wanted to return to Cosette as soon as possible, and yet the chance to gloat over Valjean seemed too good to miss. "Why what?" he retorted, turning back around to face him.

"Why Cosette?" His voice breaks slightly over her name, but he continues, "I've been trying to piece it together all night… Is it revenge? Another victory you can taunt me with? One last thing you can take away from me? She's my daughter, please I beg of you, let her go," he growled, clutching the bars of the cell so tightly that his hands went white.

He scoffed, "Is that what you think? That I'd bed your daughter in some pathetic power play?" He shooks his head and sauntered over to the cell. "I'll let you in on a secret, Valjean. My marriage to Cosette had absolutely nothing to do with you, and absolutely everything to do with _her_. I'd have taken her whether she was your daughter or somebody else's. You were merely a convenient means of securing her. Getting to see you locked up like the scum you are was an added bonus, I'll admit."

He watched as Valjean pieced the new information together in his mind and waited for that moment of horrifying clarity.

Valjean did not disappoint.

His eyebrows shot upwards and his eyes narrowed and darkened with rage, "There was no order for my execution, was there?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Javert smirks, "No. Why on Earth would we offer you an easy death when you can spend the next twenty years of your life slaving away like a dog in Toulon?"

Valjean's face turned purple with fury. His teeth are clenched so tightly that the veins on his forehead pop out. Snarling at Javert he looked deranged, like a rabid animal.

"If you so much as touch her-"

"I intend to do more than just touch, I assure you," Javert retorted, leaping back just in time to miss the punch that Valjean threw between his cell bars.

"I'll kill you for this, I swear to God!" he roared, thrashing violently against the walls of his cell, trying in vain to grab at Javert.

Javert shook his head and stared at the broken man before him. Behind the rage and the hatred he saw the agony in Valjean's eyes, not for himself of course, he was too selfless for that, but for Cosette.

A weaker man might have been moved, but Javert had never been weak. "No, you won't," was all he said.

He turned his back on Valjean and walked out of the police station, ignoring his curses and threats and his pained cries for his daughter.

When he climbed back into the carriage he found his beautiful Cosette crying softly on the leather seats. He sat down and pulled her into his lap, kissing her brow as she instinctively curled against him. She saw him as a saviour; she had no idea just how wrong she was.

It was rather nice, he decided. He cuddled her against him the entire trip home, and slowly her sobs turned to whimpers, and those whimpers into silence. When the carriage stopped outside his house he paid the driver and then took Cosette's hand in his and led her inside.

He didn't bother giving her a tour of the house; she would see it all in the morning. With an excited fluttering in his stomach he led her straight into his bedroom. He quickly lit the two lamps, casting a warm golden glow over the room.

When he turned he found Cosette standing behind him, eyeing the large double bed and chewing on her lower lip with something akin to apprehension.

Of course she would be nervous, he reasoned. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that before tonight she hadn't even kissed a man, the mere thought of sex must have terrified her. That was, if she even knew what was expected of her.

Somehow he doubted that Valjean would have brought it up in their father-daughter discussions. That was fine; Cosette would learn quickly, he would be an eager teacher.

"Cosette?" he asked, gently tilting her chin to meet her gaze. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitated.

"I would never hurt you, little one. Trust me on that, at least," he murmured.

Cosette nodded. "I do, I'm just…"

"Scared? Nervous?"

Again she nodded, her cheeks flushing a bright pink.

"Don't be, my love. I'll be gentle." Slowly he unbuttoned his coat, followed by his shirt. He carelessly tossed both across the room into his laundry pile and turned his attention onto Cosette, whose eyes were wandering down his bare chest shamelessly. He grinned. He knew he was attractive, even if he wasn't as young as he once was.

"Turn," he commanded.

She did and with nimble fingers he undid the buttons of her dress, sliding it off her shoulders when it was loose enough. With one hand placed on his shoulder for balance Cosette stepped out of the dress. Kicking that across the floor Javert unlaced her corset and pulled that off too, followed by her petticoats and finally (women really did wear far too much clothing) her chemise and drawers.

She looked utterly divine; he'd seen glimpses before, but nothing like this. Standing naked with her back to him he was blessed with a fantastic view of her well rounded ass.

Grinning ferociously he stripped himself of his breeches and stepped around so that he could see her from the front.

She was exquisite.

Hungrily his eyes trailed from the top of her head down to her full, creamy breasts, then across the flat planes of her stomach, down to the golden curls that hid her womanhood, further still down to her smooth and pale thighs.

He grew hard at the sight of her and he couldn't resist taking her in his arms and ravishing her lips. He planned on claiming every inch of her and her lips seemed as good a place as any to start.

Cosette was far more receptive under his touch than when they were in the church, moaning softly into the kiss. She lacked experience, but she certainly made up for it in eagerness.

With one hand tangled in her golden hair and the other wrapped tightly around her waist Javert pulled her towards the bed, keeping his lips pressed firmly against hers. Entangled, the pair fell onto the soft mattress, Javert rolling over so that Cosette was tucked safely underneath him.

He broke away from her lips, panting slightly from the lack of breath. "You're beautiful," he sighed, trailing his fingers across her stomach. "So beautiful."

He resumed his kisses, but instead of her lips he kissed a path down her slender neck, towards her chest leaving a trail of love bites as he went. He wanted to mark her for the world to see. She belonged to _him_.

"Javert," she moaned, her own hands clawing at his back, pulling him closer still. The vixen had no idea what she was doing to him; how fire flowed through his blood at her every touch.

Cosette's breathing quickened when his mouth descended over one of her breasts. He sucked on her nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud while his other hand subtly made its way down to her womanhood.

One long digit gently probed her folds and he was delighted to find her slick and wet. The second he slipped that finger inside her the spell he'd woven on Cosette was broken.

With an audible gasp her eyes flew open and she jerked away from his touch and scrambled up towards the headboard, pulling her legs up to her chest in an attempt to protect her modesty.

"Stop, stop. I can't, I'm not-" she stammered, her eyes wide and terrified. If he needed any proof that his Cosette was entirely untouched, this was it.

"Cosette, my darling, look at me," he said soothingly. "I would never hurt you, I'll be gentle. Trust me, my dear. I promised to take care of you, didn't I?" he asked.

She nodded slowly, watching him carefully with those big blue eyes.

"Then let me take care of you," he murmured, tentatively reaching out to caress her leg. When she did not flinch away from the contact he suppressed a triumphant grin. With strong arms he lifted her from the top of the bed and slid her down closer towards him.

Cosette said nothing as he gently pulled her thighs apart, and watched with wary eyes as he shuffled down the bed. Instead of his fingers however, he lowered his head down to her heat.

"Wha- what are you doing?" Cosette asked, but he was pleased when she didn't move to stop him.

"You'll see. You'll enjoy this, I promise," he smirked, settling himself between her warm thighs. Cosette let out a surprised gasp as his tongue brushed against her clitoris.

True to his word Cosette appeared to be enjoying herself immensely, if her delighted moans were anything to go by. Her hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to her core as he eagerly lapped up her juices. She writhed beneath him begging him breathlessly to keep going when he suddenly pulled away.

"What? No! You can't just sto-" He cut off her outraged cries with a kiss.

She was so lost in the feeling of his lips devouring hers that she hardly noticed him shift his body on top of hers and position his hardened cock at her entrance. With one quick thrust he sheathed himself entirely in her.

Cosette screamed but the sound was muffled against his lips. He held her tightly for a few moments as she adjusted to the sudden intrusion.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing the stray tear that slipped down her cheek. "It'll stop hurting soon."

She nodded at that, her pretty face still twisted in a grimace of pain.

Once she relaxed against him Javert began to rock himself back and forth. He moved slowly at first, he didn't want Cosette in any more pain than was necessary, but he picked up speed as he felt her open herself up to him.

But oh god she was heaven! Months of agonising waiting and planning had led him to this very moment, and it was glorious! She was warm, and soft and oh so inviting.

The feeling of her walls clenched tightly around him as he thrust into her was indescribably wonderful, but if the truth be known it was the sight of her naked beneath him, covered in love bites with her soft breasts heaving in ecstasy that drove him crazy. The way she looked at him, breathless with her eyes glazed with lust, it was exhilarating. He nuzzled against her cheek, kissing her along the line of her jaw as he relentlessly drove himself in and out of her.

"Oh god!" she cried out when he hit her sweet spot.

His little blasphemer, he thought fondly.

Grinning ferociously he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him as he drove himself into her warmth again and again hitting that same spot. Cosette's screams of pleasure were enough to send him over the edge and with one final thrust he came inside of her.

Ever the gentleman after he reached his climax he helped Cosette find hers. With nimble fingers he ran his hand down her lithe body and found her clit, massaging it teasingly.

"D-don't stop," she breathed, entirely lost in the pleasure he was providing.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a smirk. He had a feeling she was too far-gone to have heard him though.

He watched greedily as her orgasm took hold of her; her eyes fluttered shut and her pink lips formed an o. Her hands clutched desperately at his back, wanting, no… needing him closer. With a cry of delight Cosette hit her peak and against his fingers she rode it out.

She was breathtaking. She was beautiful. She was his, and he supposed in a strange sense, he was hers also.

Utterly exhausted they collapsed onto the mattress. Unwilling to have her too far away Javert pulled her close, curling up beside her. Cosette didn't seem to mind the contact, the night was cold and she was far too tired to care at that point. Within minutes his love was fast asleep, and he followed shortly after.

For once it was not the soft rays of sunlight filtering into his room that woke Javert up, but rather an unfamiliar weight of his chest and a tickling sensation under his nose.

When he cracked his grey eyes open he found himself lying on his back with a very naked Cosette asleep on his chest. Her blonde curls were splayed out around her face (and his chest) like a golden halo. That would explain the tickling feeling, he realised with a smile.

She looked so peaceful as she slept, so entirely innocent and he thought as a satisfied smile that crept across his face. She was his wife in all senses of the word. No other man could ever lay claim on her. Victory was sweet.

_His_ wife sleeping in _his_ bed, the thought gave him an insurmountable amount of happiness.

Softly as to not wake her he trailed his fingers through her hair. The previous night had exceeded his expectations tremendously. It certainly wasn't his first time, not by far, but with his sweet Cosette it had been everything he'd dreamed and more. It had been as close to perfection as he ever thought he'd come.

And this was only the beginning! She was married to him now; they would spend the rest of their lives together. She would never leave his side, nor, if he had his way, his bed.

Was it possible to have everything he truly wanted? With Valjean locked behind bars and Cosette curled up beside him, it seemed so.

Of course he wasn't deluded enough to believe that Cosette loved him. No, yesterday had been trying for her and she'd taken comfort where she could. She'd enjoyed herself, he'd made damn sure of that, but satisfaction wasn't love. He found it difficult to care, though. He would love her, protect her and comfort her and she would learn to love him back.

Even… even if she didn't, he would survive because he had enough love for the both of them. As long as she slept at his side he would take whatever affection he could and be satisfied with that.

Because she was his world.

Because she was all he'd ever wanted.

Because the thought of life without her was agony.

Because, whether it was for better or for worse, whether it was right or wrong, he loved her.


End file.
